Sixty
by DnKS-giRLs
Summary: Can be seen as SuzaLulu fic, post Zero requiem. In the rain, facing his own tombstone, Kururugi Suzaku stood and thought of the so many things happened in this life. He was sixty.


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**Title**: Sixty

**Author**: DnKS – giRLs

**Rating**: G

**Character(s)/Pairing(s)**: Kururugi Suzaku/can be seen as SuzaLulu

**Disclaimers**: The characters involved in this story do not belong to us and we hold no claim over them.

**Warning**: Took place after the end of Code Geass R2

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It rained lightly that day, just enough to wet the grasses without flooding the pavement. The streets were quite busy with people, considering it was mid morning of a business day. But silence, or something more akin to silence than to commotion, still reigned in that old cemetery complex. And amid the rain, in that busy mid-afternoon, along in the silent cemetery complex facing a lone tombstone, a single man stood.

He traced the letters engraved to the tomb before him with his eyes. Suzaku Kururugi, eighteen years old, forever asleep within the grave. Or so the tombstone before him revealed.

But that was not the truth. No. For Suzaku Kururugi was not within that earthly grave, was not a boy of eighteen, was not asleep, much less forever. Suzaku Kururugi was standing there, amid the rain, facing his own tomb. And he was sixty.

There was a dull pain on his left leg when he made a motion to kneel in front of the grave. His age caught up with him, reminding him of his growing old by the aches on every joint on his body. It did not help that his left leg in particular was never the same again after he sustained a terrible injury there. An old wound, caused by one or several bullets tearing through his skin and bone, gotten from his days fighting off the rebels, was still causing him trouble even after so many years. He kind of envied the 'him' inside the grave, forever eighteen, forever young, forever undisturbed by pain and heartache.

He snorted at the thought--envying himself; just how much absurd could he become?

Finally he gave up and merely dropped himself to the ground, sitting there, minding not that the wet grass surely did unpleasant things to his pants. He smirked to the tombstone and he smirked at the irony. The tombstone made him recall so many things, so many memories. He recalled the days of his youth--buried within the depth of his heart just like how he buried his past under that grave. He recalled the joyful days of his youth--forgotten just like how the figure within the grave was forgotten to the world. He recalled that vast field of sunflowers, the cheerful laughter coming from the three children playing there, the smile of a beautiful, sweet-natured girl whose name still left a bittersweet taste on his lips, the sight of a pair of brilliant eyes and the feel of a heavy mask thrust upon his hands.

He blinked his eyes. He could feel some wetness there. Was it the rain, he wondered idly. But the answer came as fast as the question itself. No, it was not the rain. Rather, it was his tears, which came unbidden at the memories.

He had seen his homeland taken away, destroyed in the war. He had seen the death of so many people, both those people he could deem innocent and those who were far from being one. He had seen the destruction of a powerful empire and her rising back from the ashes. He had felt betrayal, walked side by side with death, launched terror upon the face of the earth.

He had thought that he had already lost the ability to cry. But he was mistaken. As always, he was mistaken. Just a passing memory of that sadly smiling face, those pair of eyes looking at him, that mask being given to his hand and once again, he could do none but cry.

That mask was his destiny. He knew that, he had accepted that. But after more than four decades donning that mask, fulfilling his destiny, doing his promise, he felt so very tired. He had done what he could do. Zero had protected the people after the regicide of the 99th Emperor of Britannia. Zero had fought hard to maintain the peace. Zero had helped with stabilizing the political climate of Britannia afterward. Zero had fought, and killed, and gotten hurt in the process, both physically and emotionally, but he kept strong in his steps and in whatever he did.

"For you, Lelouch," he whispered. His voice was old and cranky and dry, so very different from the voice he remembered he once had. So very different from the voice he last used to address him with that name. Yet the devotion contained in his voice was still the same when he said those words. "For you, Lelouch."

He was old. Too old to fight. Too old to even acted as the advisor to the court. And he was too tired, too hurt, both physically and psychologically. There was so much pain in him, and the pain only made him feel older than what he truly was. He had finally been able to shed the mask of Zero off. He had finally become a nobody again. For Suzaku Kururugi was dead, and Zero, too, was dead. And perhaps, he hoped against hope, that time he finally could close his eyes and embrace death. Perhaps that time he could finally let go. Perhaps that time he could be freed from his duty and perhaps, the next time he opened his eyes, there would be that familiar sight of a pair of amethyst eyes greeting him.

He stared upward to the sky; his mouth was forming a smile.

"For you, Lelouch," he said and then he closed his eyes.

Young doctor Lionel Smith was having a night shift that day and they just brought up a patient to his care. An old man of probably around sixty, found on the brink of hypothermia on a cemetery in front of a grave. No identity they could find on the man's person. No known relative they could contact concerning the condition on the patient. And when Doctor Smith saw the patient himself, he knew there was no hope the old man would last till morning.

He took care of him nonetheless. He did his job. He kept his constant watch over him. And once, during the long night, the man opened his eyes and he could see a pair of vivid green eyes staring at him.

And the man smiled at him and said, "For you, Lelouch."

There were many things, of course, that young Doctor Smith might say as his response to that statement. Many more appropriate things, at least in his opinion, he could say as his response to that statement. Therefore he could not understand why, that time, he merely smiled at the old man and said. "I know."

There was happiness in that old face when he told him those simple two words. For a moment, those green eyes shone brightly and oh, so lively, when their owner said, "Your eyes… are still… most beautiful."

He smiled even wider, without knowing why, without thinking why. "Thank you."

And he watched how that old man smiled, how that old man closed his eyes. And he was there when the old man with no identity finally took his last breath and left the mortal world just a moment before dawn. He was still some nameless man then. They could not find anything that might indicate anything about his identity. Days afterward, there was still no one coming to the hospital claiming to be his relative until they finally buried him on a burial ground beside the church without any name.

And days afterward, Doctor Lionel Smith was still perplexed at the tears that he shed unashamedly when he watched the last vestige of life leaving the old, nameless man that night.

**End**

(A/N: yah… it has been so long since the last time we uploaded any fic but we have not lost any interest in fic writing in general and Code Geass fandom in particular. This fic can somewhat be our proof for that. Thank you for giving this fic a chance and reading it. Please tell us your comment on the fic; any of your comment would be valued highly. We hope you had a good reading and we also hope to see you again in our other fics. Until then, farewell.)


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